


I'll be your shelter

by Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams



Series: kintsugi [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Belphie was never locked in the attic, Blood and Injury, Briar ends up with everyone but this focuses specifically on Mammon, Canon Rewrite, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, MC is nonbinary AFAB, Magic, Marking, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soul Bond, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29667591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams/pseuds/Take_Me_To_My_Fragile_Dreams
Summary: Wide blue eyes stare at the knife and then at them.Briar stares back silently.“The fuck is that for?!” Mammon demands. He’s so like a bird, all puffed out feathers and indignant rage. Does he have feathers? “Why are ya throwin’ knives at people?”“You didn’t knock.” Briar sits up. They don’t like the implication of laying in bed defenseless. “wasn’t trying to hit you, anyways.”
Relationships: Briar/Mammon, Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: kintsugi [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669783
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	I'll be your shelter

**Author's Note:**

> I said I was going to be rewriting Briar's story to better fit them and here we are. When I started FLILMM they weren't well developed and I kind of just dove in to figure shit out. Now that I know who they are it doesn't really reflect them well anymore and I couldn't keep going knowing that. There's going to be separate installments for each brother - this one focuses on Mammon. 
> 
> Title from shelter by city wolf (which is briar and mammon's theme)
> 
> A few important things to note:
> 
> \- Belphie was never locked in the attic in this version
> 
> \- Briar has trauma, as most people know, and this will be dealing more heavily with that. I'll do my best to tag things as they come up in each chapter

It’s strange, Briar thinks, how once they would have done anything to be spirited away to a strange and mysterious world. That escape is the one thing they’ve coveted above all else; the one thing that has remained forever out of reach. 

It is both everything they’ve dreamed and not.

The twirl of their butterfly knife is a familiar motion. A flick of their wrist, a shift of their middle finger, then their pointer, then back again. The faint click of the blade opening and closing mingles with the sound of the small fountain beside their bed. 

The fountain that runs off a tree. 

A tree that makes up the headboard of the aforementioned bed. 

They stare up through the canopy blankly. They’re not present, not really. 

They wonder if there are cameras in their room.

They wonder if anyone will come running if their knife slips.

Briar’s hand stills as they let out a slow breath. Numbness is a familiar feeling, but it too is dangerous. The consequences of their actions seem distant. Who would really care if they died in this strange bed, in this strange world?

They scowl. A surge of anger has them flinging their knife at the wall beside their door. It opens as the blade sinks into the wood and with it comes a surprised shout. 

Wide blue eyes stare at the knife and then at them.

Briar stares back silently.

“The fuck is that for?!” Mammon demands. He’s so like a bird, all puffed out feathers and indignant rage. Does he _have_ feathers? “Why are ya throwin’ knives at people?”

“You didn’t knock.” Briar sits up. They don’t like the implication of laying in bed defenseless. “wasn’t trying to hit you, anyways.”

“So ya just throw knives at walls?! You’re weird.” 

The door closes behind him. They itch to grab their blade. 

He yanks it out of the wall and tosses it onto their bed before they can move. “Lucifer wants me to take ya to dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, well, that ain’t gonna cut it.”

They grab their knife, knuckles going white around steel. “I have no choice then?” Their lip curls as their numbness gives way to anger. It’s all they have to give. “I’m just supposed to play the good obedient human and do what he says?”

Mammon shifts. He looks distinctly uncomfortable as his arms cross. “…yeah.”

The admission is enough to make them falter. Enough to make their brain stall and their anger flicker like a candle in the wind. They can practically smell the smoke of its impending extinguish. 

“Lucifer is used to gettin’ what he wants. He’ll come up here himself if I don’t come down with ya.” 

“Of course he will.” The Morning Star is demanding and cold. He doles out orders as easily as he breathes, even to his family. Briar is nothing to him but an unwanted burden. “Why does he even care?”

Mammon lets out a puff of air that disturbs his bangs. “’You’re important to the exchange program and ‘failure is not an option’ or some shit. If Diavolo wants somethin’ done then Lucifer will make sure it happens.” 

“And Diavolo wants me done,” they say wryly.

His cheeks color. How _adorable_. “Do ya gotta word it like that? Jeez.” 

Briar shrugs. They feel more comfortable as the tables shift. If Mammon is flustered then for just a moment, they’re not as powerless as they’ve been made. 

“Never thought greed would be a prude.” 

“I’m not a prude!” 

“That’s exactly what a prude would say.” 

Mammon flounders for a response; they smirk back at him. The blush spilling down his cheeks is a victory. His embarrassment tastes like their favorite dessert. 

Finally, he huffs and scowls at the wall. “Are ya comin’ or what? I don’t got all night.”

They debate denying him, but a rumble of their stomach makes the decision for them. “Yeah,” they sigh and pocket their knife. “lead the way.” 

The House of Lamentation - and isn’t that just a _delightful_ name - is a gothic dream that Briar is doing their best to ignore. They are intent on making their displeasure about their situation known and gushing over the decor won’t help their case.

“Why did Lucifer assign me to you if you don’t want the job? Why couldn’t he give me to someone else?” 

Mammon huffs. “Probably punishment. That and the others wouldn’t be able to do it. Asmo is too touchy. Levi is too much of a shut-in. Satan would explode. Beel would probably eat ya and Belphie...” He hesitates. “Just avoid those last two, alright?” 

“I’ve already been told,” they mutter. 

Briar doesn’t like being a ‘punishment,’ especially without their consent. It’s just another bullet in the long list of their grievances. 

Against their chest the Luciferian symbol feels too hot. It’s hidden and despite their want to take it off so that no one will see, it’s a comfort in a strange world. One they need right now. 

_The descent into Hell is easy,_ they think to themself as they follow Mammon down the stairs. 

“What’re ya smirkin’ at, human?”

“It’s nothing, there’s just - ” they tuck a curl back behind their ear and gesture towards the stairs. “There’s a passage in latin. It translates into something like ‘ _the descent into Hell is easy; the rise to Heaven is unyielding_.’ The symbolism isn’t lost on me.”

Mammon follows the line of their hand to the stairs. His brow furrows. “You get to leave in a year. Let’s go.”

His strides quicken suddenly, leaving their shorter legs to scramble to keep up. They let out a sound of protest when he doesn’t slow and nearly careen face first into his back when he suddenly stills. 

“Hey! What the hell is your prob - ”

“We’re here,” he interrupts. His hand shoves the door open to reveal an expansive dining room. Inside is a long rectangular table with eight seats. Every seat is taken, save for one on the end and one on the side beside it. 

Six pairs of eyes swing to look at them. Leviathan looks away quickly; Beel’s frame nearly hides him away when he sinks further down in his seat. Belphegor, who sits on Beel’s other side, doesn’t even spare them a glance. 

Message received. 

“Briar.” Lucifer stares at them impassively. “Good to see that you could join us. As our guest of honor, your seat is on the other end of the table.”

Belphegor lets out an unimpressed sound. 

“I’m not exactly happy about it either,” they tell him. Silence is their answer as they sit down. Mammon takes the remaining empty seat on their right, beside Asmodeus.

“Ohh, switch with me, Belphie!” Asmo smiles charmingly. “I’d _love_ to get to know our human better.” 

Lucifer’s voice slices through his flirtation before Briar can open their mouth. “Asmo, behave. This is exactly why they’re not your charge.”

“You’re no fun!”

“Speaking of,” Briar pushes their shoulders back and meets Lucifer’s gaze head on. “Where are my meds?” 

“Your meds?”

They cross their arms. “I take medication every morning and every night. So where are they?” 

The entire table’s attention is on them now. Even Belphegor is staring at Lucifer curiously. 

“All of your essentials will be provided for - ”

Briar sneers. “You expect me to walk around a place full of people who want to hurt me and take some stupid college course without my meds? The Avatar of Dumbass is a better title than Pride.” 

Mammon pales. “Shut up! Before ya - ” 

“Oh am I not supposed to make him _angry_ ? Not supposed to uproot his life, take away all the things that felt safe and deny him common courtesy? So _sorry_ I didn’t get the memo.”

Satan snickers. “Has the great Lucifer miscalculated?” 

“ **Silence**.”

They lean forward and hold his gaze. “ _No_.”

An inhuman snarl rolls across the table like thunder. Levi scoots away from Lucifer’s side of the table. 

“I will not tolerate this insolence - ”

They stand and slam their palms down against the table. “Then _listen_ to me! All you’ve done since I’ve got here is order me around and decide my fate without asking! You haven’t even asked me why my meds are important! For someone who wants this to work you sure have a shitty way of showing it!” 

They’re practically panting, heart racing in their chest and pulse roaring in their ears. They hate confrontation. Hate anything involving loud noises and anger. But in this they can’t back down.

They blink frustrated tears from their eyes. 

“Well?” They demand as they straighten. “Nothing to say now?”

“Oh my…” It’s Asmo, who stares transfixed at something lower than their eyes. For a moment they can’t believe he’s checking them out at a time like this, and then they realize just what has happened.

Their hand shoots up to clutch at the necklace around their neck. It must have swung loose from their shirt when they leaned over the table. The familiar symbol bites into their palm as they hide it away. 

It’s Lucifer’s symbol. 

Their cheeks flush with humiliation. They dread looking up but they do all the same. 

Lucifer stares right back at them. There is satisfaction in his gaze, there and gone in the next instant. His soothed pride eases his anger. 

“Well then,” he says. “Tell me what your medications do.”

Briar takes a breath. Sits down and flexes their sweaty hands. “They keep me stable. I won’t be able to function without them. I’ll be stuck in bed from withdrawal.” 

“Lucky you.”

“Belphie,” Beel admonishes around a fried wing. “That’s not very nice.”

“I see.” Lucifer sighs. “I will speak with Diavolo. You will have your medications by tomorrow morning.” 

Another breath. The sound of their pulse eases in their ears.

“...Thank you.”

Lucifer’s lips curl into the ghost of a smirk. “Devotion can be rewarded.” 

“Gross,” Levi mutters.

Mammon scoffs. 

“Eat.” He shoves something at them. It looks suspiciously similar to jello. With fuzz. 

They glower at Lucifer and then at the food. They dare to poke it with a spoon. “Pretty sure it just _hissed_ at me.”

“If you don’t want it, I do.” Beel reaches over Belphie’s plate to snatch the bowl. He takes a large spoonful and shoves it into his mouth without hesitation.

Briar’s stomach lurches. 

“This is human safe!” Asmo nudges a light purple dish their way. It’s remarkably similar to mashed potatoes. They dare a bite and are relieved to taste nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Thanks.”

“Of course, darling! Though I won’t turn you away if you want to thank me later too~” 

Mammon shoves at his shoulder. “Stop bein’ gross! They’re not goin’ anywhere alone with ya!” 

“That’s my choice,” Briar huffs. They soften some, though, with the knowledge that he’s protecting them even despite his previous reluctance. “I’ll take a raincheck, Asmodeus.” 

“Please, Asmo is fine.” 

“Asmo,” they amend with a small smile.

They make the mistake of reaching for what looks like a pitcher of juice on Belphegor’s side. They barely get a chance to grip the handle before pain explodes out from their wrist. 

Juice spreads out across the table like blood, ruining any nearby dishes. Levi lets out a shriek; Asmo shoves his chair backwards. 

Briar registers none of it as they stare into eyes brimming with a hate so strong it sucks the breath from their lungs. 

“Don’t touch me,” Belphie hisses. 

Their fingers twitch. They’re beginning to go numb beneath his grip. The bones in their wrist creak in protest. 

“I wasn’t trying to touch you.”

His claws bite into their skin but they refuse to yell, to show any further signs of pain. Their head feels dizzy the longer they look at him; like coming off one of those spinning fair rides for the first time.

“Let them go!” Mammon worms his way between the two of them. As soon as they’re free from Belphegor's gaze they feel an immediate wave of nausea. 

There’s an angry hiss; an answering growl.

Briar cradles their wrist to their chest and stands. 

“You want this to work?” They meet Lucifer’s gaze across the table. “Good luck.” 

No one tries to stop them when they turn to go.

* * *

Their wrist throbs with their every breath. Swollen and an angry purple, it’s only the fact that they can still move their fingers that makes them think it isn’t broken. They don’t have any pain killers. They weren’t exactly allowed to pack anything before they were dropped straight down into Hell. 

Does Hell even have ice packs? They’re not entirely willing to go find out. 

It’s obvious that at least one of the brothers has no qualms about hurting them. Of all the warnings they’ve been given, they’re not about to trust any of the others on blind faith alone. 

A knock on their door rouses them. They don’t bother getting up from their bed. 

“What?”

It opens to reveal Mammon, who holds a bundle of - something in his arms.

Briar frowns. “I locked that.”

He shrugs. Closes the door and waves his claws. “‘M good at gettin’ places people don’t want me.”

They sit up when he approaches. By the look on his face he doesn’t miss the way they wince.

“I brought stuff for your wrist.” He sits down on the bed and reaches for their hand. They can’t think of a reason to deny him - the worst that could happen is more pain. They’re used to it at this point.

They examine the pile he’s left by their hip. A strange jar with cool blue gel sits next to a towel. There’s bandages and what appears to be an ice pack - that answers that question.

He prods at the swelling. 

They jerk in his grip. Glare. _“Ow.”_

“It’s not broken,” he declares, either immune to their glare or completely ignorant to its presence altogether. The jar pops open before he slathers their skin in the gel. 

They aren’t given time to question it. One minute they’re in pain and the next an almost agonizing coolness seeps into their skin. It numbs the pain with a feeling like ice, leaving them staring at the swelling in surprise. 

Still there, just not felt. 

It stays that way as he wraps their wrist. The ice pack feels like overkill after the cream but they don’t argue when he presses it into their hands. 

“...thanks.”

He wipes his fingers off on the towel and shrugs. “I have ‘ta take care of ya. It’d be a pain if ya dropped dead from somethin’ like this.”

They don’t point out the difference between bruises and life threatening injury. 

“I still appreciate it.” They lean back against their pillows. “Is there a reason your brother hates me?”

Mammon blinks. “Belphie? He doesn’t hate _you_ specifically - he just hates humans.”

“That’s comforting.” Their eyes roll. “Tragic backstory, or what?”

From the way his expression shutters and closes, they figure they’ve hit the mark. 

“I’ll stay away from him, don’t worry. Wasn’t planning on getting close even _before_ this.” They gesture to their wrist. “Lesson learned.” 

Mammon’s expression is unhappy. His frustration sits heavy at the back of their head. “Belphie is - complicated. He just needs time to adjust. Probably.”

Briar bites back any retorts. They figure he’s earned that much, after helping them. 

“I’ll take your word for it. I still think we should switch seats, though.”

“I’ll ask Lucifer. After Belphie’s stunt, he might actually listen. In the meantime,” he stands and stares down at them with narrow eyes. “Stay outta trouble! We’re gonna get ya clothes tomorrow and ya need to be alive for it.” 

His long legs eat up the distance between the bed and the door. He disappears out of it before they can so much as question his plans. 

They stare down at the pile of stuff still on their bed, and then at the closed door. 

“Guess you’re staying with me,” they mutter. 

Briar sets the impromptu gifts down on the floor and pokes suspiciously at their wrist. When it stays blissfully numb they settle down to sleep. 

They try not to think about the fact that at least one of their demon hosts can bypass their lock. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ apassintohell
> 
> Comments are always welcome


End file.
